Chapter 2. So We Meet Again

    Melody walked the streets of London, her hood pulled up over her head to shield her from the British rain. She blended in with the crowd, her light much dimmer- less radiant- these days. Life had been a rollercoaster ride between Melody and Zayn, both of them completely different people from the young teenagers on the beach. They were now six years older, living very different lives. She hadn’t seen him in a year, at least not in person. She’d seen him in her dreams every night, and he lived in her mind all throughout the day. She’d been thinking about him quite a lot lately.

 

    Her family told her that she needed to move on, but they just didn’t understand. It’s hard when someone was your everything for so long, and then suddenly they’re just gone. Completely erased from your life. She saw his face in every crowd, always mistaking someone for him. She saw his face in the puddles of rain in the craters of the sidewalk. When she looked in the mirror he was always standing beside her. Sometimes she’d even think it was really him and when she’d turn to check…he was never there.

 

    Things were messy towards the end, lots of fighting and arguing. But she couldn’t help but linger on how things had been so good for so long. Those moments where everything was right and they were so in love always overshadowed the bad times. Those were the moments that she held onto, the ones that kept her from letting go and just forgetting about him.

 

    One place that held a lot of those memories was a coffee shop in Leicester Square called Mocha Café. She and Zayn used to go there almost everyday. They’d just talk and drink their hot chocolate’s, simply enjoying each other’s company. And that was exactly where she was headed on this particular day. She didn’t really know why she was going; she’d been avoiding the place for months. She supposed that it might do her some good to just sit and reminisce, visit some of the employees she and Zayn had befriended during their many trips there.

 

    She took a deep breath as she reached the café, a flitting of a smile appearing on her face. It was quickly replaced by a frown, though, when she stopped in front of the café, only to be met by a locked door and a red ‘For Rent’ sign plastered onto the glass front, the edges of the paper dog-eared and curled. She felt her heart sink and land abruptly in her stomach. It couldn’t be possible.

 

   Melody yanked on the door again, as if it would magically open and everything that had once been so familiar and comforting to her about this special place would suddenly reappear. Why she would even consider that a possibility was truly a mystery. She’d learned long ago that her life was far from a whimsical fairy tale where things always went her way. In fact, nothing had seemed to be going her way lately. Her career was in a bit of a rut. She was still getting jobs for doing makeup at random photoshoots and occasionally she would do the makeup for minor plays and things, but her income was slowly dwindling. That was for sure.

 

   Her social life was almost nonexistent. No one wanted to hang out with a 21-year-old girl who was still hung up on a guy she hadn’t spoken to in a whole year. The only person who had really stuck by her was her best friend, Cara. They’d met in cosmetology school when Melody was eighteen and they’d clicked instantly. Once they’d both decided that moving to London would further their careers immensely, they rented a flat together where they now reside quite happily in each other’s company. If not for Cara, Melody would have never made it through the past year. She kept her sane.

 

    She pressed her face against the glass doors of the café to see a huge empty space other than one very familiar burgundy leather couch. She found herself sinking into a nearby bench, her mind being swallowed up by a dizzying memory from her past. A memory that involved that exact couch and a boy who she could only identify as…overwhelming.

3 Years Ago

 

 

        She sat on one of the sofas near the back of the café, her legs tucked underneath her. She was bundled up in one of Zayn’s jumpers, and her gloved hands gripped her container of hot chocolate. Her candy pink lips pursed and lightly blew at the steam seeping from the small hole on the top of the cup. Zayn was sat on the couch, too. A relatively good amount of space between them. His right arm was slung over the back of the couch, his fingertips lightly stroking the wool covering her shoulder. He loved it when she wore his clothes. He thought she looked the best in them.

 

    They watched each other, eyes searching each other’s faces. To be able to be completely comfortable in a shared silence with someone, no words passing between the two, was how she knew that their love was real. She couldn’t do that with anyone else; it would be awkward. But with Zayn, it came easy.

 

    She could see that he was getting ready to say something, could see in his eyes that his mind was working. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, leaning his head to the side, taking her in.

 

    Her lips relaxed from their purse, forming into one of her sweet smiles that Zayn could never get enough of. Her porcelain cheeks flushed a rosy pink, she’d always been shy when it came to sentimental things or compliments, but only when they were regarded towards her. “Why do you say that?” she asked, peering at him through her mascara painted lashed.

 

    He shook his head dismissively, running a hand through his perfectly shaped quiff. “I don’t know. I was just thinking out loud, babe.”

 

    She twisted her lips to the side, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. “I like when you think out loud,” she grinned, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip, “You always say the sweetest things.” He chuckled and she reached out a skinny finger to tap his nose gently, giggling softly when he scrunched it up.

 

     He watched her lovingly as she brought her coffee cup to her lips, taking a long sip. Her eyelids fluttered closed blissfully as the warm liquid coursed over her tongue, sending a warmth throughout her whole body. She could feel his eyes on her so she just barely opened hers to see him gazing at her, wearing a dreamy smile. Finally, she lowered the cup, swallowing the last bit of the chocolate-y goodness. “What are you thinking about now?” she asked him once she noticed that his face had fallen a bit.

 

    He looked down at his lap, slowly cracking his knuckles before answering. “I was just wondering…what do you think about me going on the X-factor tour? I mean, is it okay with you?”

 

  “Well, yeah. I’ll miss you, but you’re following your dreams so I’m happy.”

 

    He sighed, fiddling with the many fan-made bracelets he wore on his wrists. He shifted his big brown eyes up to look at her. “You know, if you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”

 

    She drew her eyebrows together and shook her head fervently, leaning over to set her empty coffee cup on the table in front of them. “Are you crazy? Of course I want you to go. You’ve earned this opportunity, and you can’t let the boys down. Obviously I’ll miss you and I could only hope that you’d miss me, too, but this is your dream, Zayn. I’d never get in the way of that."

    He nodded slowly. He should’ve known she’d want him to do it. She was never the selfish type. That just wasn’t her. He leaned forward, tucking a strand of wavy hair behind her ear, his fingertips tracing her jaw. “You know I’ll be back for you, right? No matter where I go or how long I’m gone for, I’ll always come back to you, Mel,” he said, his eyes staring deep into hers.

 

    She smiled a bittersweet smile, reaching her hand up to cover his, loving the way his skin felt against hers. “Of course I know that, Zayn.”

 

 

    She shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. No, she wouldn’t cry over him anymore. She’d wasted too much of her time crying over him. She leaned her head down so that her hair would hide her face. She made like she was digging around in her handbag for something so that the people rushing past her couldn’t see that she was blinking like a mad woman, trying to make the burning sensation in her eyes go away.

 

    It was hard when memories like that would sweep over her. They made her head spin and her heart ache, like someone was squeezing it until one day it would give out and burst. She tried not to let herself think too much about the past, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. She could feel the flashbacks coming on, but by the time she noticed it, it had already creeped up and there was no getting out of it. Like when you’re swimming in the ocean and you can see the wave getting bigger and bigger. At first you’re amazed by it’s majesticness until you realize how close it’s gotten, and your arms and legs can’t paddle fast enough. The next thing you know, you’re being swallowed up by the water and you can’t breathe. That’s what it felt like.

 

    Melody sat there on that bench for awhile, actually. It didn’t seem right to be there without the smell of espresso and cocoa floating in the air, none of the voices of the employees who used to be some of her best friends, the one person who found this place to be as special and amazing wasn’t there to hold her hand. All those people walking past had no idea that this place used to be like a second home for Melody. A place where as soon as she walked through the doors, all her problems were immediately forgotten.

 

   She was just about to gather her things and go, because it was all beginning to be a bit too much for her to handle at the moment, but something stopped her. Someone kept her bum planted on that bench and her feet glued to the pavement beneath her.

 

     “So, they closed down, huh?” Melody felt her body freeze and a shiver ran down her spine. She’d know that voice anywhere. Her fingers tightened around the straps of her handbag, her knuckles turning bright white. She slowly turned her head to see the exact person who’d been on her mind standing right beside her. It was Zayn. Same black quiff, same tanned skin, same blue and white varsity jacket. Unmistakeable. After a whole year of thinking about him and wondering where he might be, he was now so close that if she reached out her hand…she could touch him.

 

     “Zayn?” It came out sounding like a strangled question, although there was no doubt in her mind as to who he was. She felt her hands begin to tremble as he looked over at her. For a minute, she thought that he didn’t even recognize her. That is, until she saw the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk and he folded his arms across his chest.

 

    “That would be my name. Of course, I thought you’d know that,” he answered, the same snarky, I-don’t- care tone to his voice, just like the last time she saw him.

 

1 Year Ago

 

 

    Zayn leaned against the doorframe of his kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching him with exhausted eyes. “You know I’m leaving tonight, right?” he asked, glancing up at her carelessly like he wished she wasn’t there, none of the love left in his gaze.

 

   She nodded, hefting her handbag onto her shoulder and grabbing her keys from the back of the couch, not bothering to even look at him. “I know. I’m leaving, too,” she informed him, trying not to let her voice crack.

 

   He raised his eyebrows and shifted his stance. “What do you mean?”

 

    She turned to him, trying to stay strong. “I’m leaving tonight and going back home to Bradford. I’m not coming back.” She pressed her lips together and mimicked his stance, her thin arms crossing over her chest.

 

   “Why?” He really didn’t sound that interested.

 

    She ran a hand across her face, willing her lip to stop quivering. “What’s the point in staying, Zayn? It’s not like you care anymore,” she said.

 

   “Oh,” he replied, his tone less than monotonous. She couldn’t believe it had all came down to this. There used to be an invisible electricity between the two of them, always sparking and burning like a passion. But now there was nothing but a freezing cold. Ever since his band went big and he was traveling all over the world, only home a couple days at a time, he’d changed. His eyes didn’t sparkle like they used to. He was always tired and he never wanted to spend time with her anymore. She’d moved to London to try and make things work, but it was too late. It was like he’d lost all interest in her whatsoever.

 

    “You’re not going to even try and make me stay?” she asked him even though she already knew the answer.

 

    He stared at her for a minute, clasping and unclasping his hands before shaking his head and disappearing into the kitchen. She shook her head and took one last glance around the room before walking out the door, leaving her broken heart splattered on his living room floor. She was just about to step off the last stair when she heard her name. She turned around quickly to see Zayn standing in front of her.

 

    “You left your phone,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. She took it from him slowly, bristling when her hand came in contact with his. Once the phone was in her hand, Zayn turned on his heel and walked back into the house without speaking another word. She didn’t know what she expected. Maybe somewhere deep down she thought that he might have been coming out to beg her to stay, but no. He said nothing, no ‘goodbyes’ or ‘I’m sorrys’ or well wishes. Nothing.

 

     Melody found herself staying quiet, not able to respond. What could she say to him? Starting up a casual conversation was completely out of the question. Her heart was already racing a hundred miles per hour, and she was almost certain she would have absolutely no ability to form a complete and intelligent sentence when he was right there. His presence was almost…intimidating. That was something she’d never felt around him before and for lack of better words, it scared her.

 

    “I wonder why they closed,” Zayn wondered, interrupting her mental battle as to whether she should speak or run away like a child running from a clown. She quickly decided that staying and speaking would be the better choice, even if it seemed impossible.

 

    She stood up clumsily, obviously very flustered. “I guess I could try and call Miss Pat. I don’t have her number but I could call infor-” She wasn’t able to finish her rambling sentence, for the next thing she knew, some guy with a camera called Zayn’s name from across the street. Paparazzi. It had been a long time since she’d experienced one of those.

 

   “Oh great,” Zayn groaned as a flash reflected off a nearby pole, and before Melody could take the chance to get out of there and avoid further awkwardness, Zayn had wrapped his hand around her wrist and was literally dragging her through the crowds of people. A burning sensation trailed across her arm from his touch, a reminder that she truly hadn’t gotten over him.

 

   “What the heck are you doing?” she called out to him, swiveling her body to the side so she wouldn’t collide into anyone and trying to pull her arm away from him. His grip only tightened.

 

    He pulled her into a side alley, and with one swift motion she was behind him and he was poking his head around the corner, his arm still outstretched behind him and clasping rather harshly around her wrist. “They’re walking the other way,” she heard him whisper, chuckling lightly as he turned back around to face her. His face fell fast, though, once he noticed he was still holding her. He dropped her hand quickly and pulled his arm away as if he’d just touched the most revolting thing in the world.

    Melody narrowed her eyes at him as he -not so discreetly- wiped his hand across his jeans. She brought her wrist up to her chest, rubbing her hand over the red mark that he had left from gripping onto her so tight. She frowned as she examined it, although that was quite difficult considering the horrible lighting in the dark alleyway. Not to mention that it didn’t have the most pleasant smell.

 

   She could feel Zayn’s eyes on her, not such a welcoming thing as it used to be. “What’s wrong with your wrist?” he asked, and she shifted her gaze to see him stood against the other wall, his hands jammed in his pockets.

 

    “Oh, I don’t know. It might have something to do with the fact that you just had a freaking death grip on it,” she snapped back sarcastically, surprising her own self. She used to be a very soft spoken person, always analyzing everything she said before actually speaking it. Always making sure she wouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings or rub anyone the wrong way. But Zayn wasn’t the only one who had changed. Melody had, too. She’d become much better at defending herself. If all the arguing her and Zayn had done taught Melody only one thing, that was it. Of course, it also had some not so great effects. Like it taught her how to build up walls and use sarcasm and feistiness to cover up her emotions.

 

    She watched him as he rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “Still over dramatic, I see,” he commented, gaining his own eye roll from Melody. “Anyways, what were you saying earlier about calling Pat?” he asked, his voice more neutral now.

 

    She waited a moment before answering, expecting him to remember that he was supposed to be a butt hole and add on some snide remark. To her surprise, he didn’t say anything else. He did give her a weird look, though, when she didn’t answer right away. “I was saying that I could call Miss Pat and see why they closed. I don’t have her number, though, so I’ll have to call information,” she said, already fishing around her purse to find her phone. Once she found it she called information and got Miss Pat’s number.

 

    “Hello,” the older woman answered after the third ring. Melody smiled instantly at the woman’s accent. She was originally from America, and her southern accent was extremely thick. But that was one of the things she liked about her.

 

   Miss Pat was the owner of Mocha Café, and one of the first people that Melody and Zayn had befriended during their many visits. They had a lot of long and sometimes serious conversations with her when there weren’t too many customers. Melody regretted not keeping in touch with the woman during the past year, especially after she found out why they had closed down.

 

    She frowned as she lowered the phone from her ear. Zayn raised his eyebrows, curious. “What did she say?”

 

    Melody sighed as she turned the phone around in her hand. “She said they had to close because they went bankrupt. Not enough business, not enough money.” It was hard to imagine them not having enough business. Every time she had ever been there, there were at least a handful of people. Of course, she hadn’t stopped by in a year so it was likely that things had plummeted during that period of time.

 

       Both of them fell silent, the sound of Zayn’s foot tapping on the ground pounded in her head. She shifted her gaze so that she could look at him. The first thing she noticed was the bags underneath his eyes. They had just begun developing towards the end of their relationship, but now they were much worse, dark purple rings. And the sparkle in his eyes still wasn’t there, as dull and lifeless as before. His jaw line was covered in scraggly stubble, like he hadn’t shaved in a week. And as her gaze traveled down his slightly thinner arm, it landed on those same fan made bracelets he’d always had clasped around his wrist, ever since the X-Factor days. The worn and tattered jewelry gave her an idea, though she wasn’t sure that he’d like it.

 

    She pushed herself off the wall, snapping her fingers. “I just thought of something. I don’t know what you’ll say, but just hear me out. Pat’s our friend and I want to help her because I know how much she loved her café and all her customers. She needs money, so I was thinking that maybe you and the boys can do some sort of charity concert or something to raise money. Not only would that help with her finances, but having One Direction behind you could totally give the café some publicity. I mean, who doesn’t want to buy coffee at the same place as One Direction?”

 

   Zayn ran his hand over his face, shaking his head. “I don’t know….”

 

    “Look, think of it as helping a friend. And if it’s me that’s keeping you from wanting to do it, then I promise that as soon as it’s over with, I’ll leave and you won’t have to see me again,” she said, even though that was the last thing she wanted to promise.

 

   He eyed her carefully before answering. “Fine.”

 

   Melody felt a familiar ache in her chest to know that the fact of never having to see her again would make him happy, when the thought of never seeing him again…killed her. It was the ache of disappointment, of a let down. But also, it was more than that. It cut deep because it was coming from him. Someone that she once thought would always love her.

 

    He pushed himself off the wall with his foot, running a hand through his hair. “I guess you can come over later and help me figure out the details and stuff. I have an interview with the guys in about an hour, but we should be home around seven. I’ll give you my number so you can text me when you’re on your way. I mean, if you want to come. You don’t have to,” he said, his voice low.

 

   She simply nodded and he spouted out his number. She made like she was typing it into her phone but in reality, she had never deleted it. Sometimes she would stare at it, as if he might’ve called her if she stared long enough. He went on to tell her his new address, and she gave him her phone number.

 

   “I’ll see you later then,” he said, once they’d finished exchanging numbers. She watched as he waved his hand and turned to walk away.

 

    “Yeah, I’ll see you later,” was her delayed answer, but he was already out of sight by the time the words left her mouth. She sighed deeply and leaned her head against the wall. When she’d layed in her bed at night and thought up different scenarios and what would happen when they’d meet again, she’d always imagined lots of smiling and laughing, a happy reunion. She never thought that it would be like this. Of course, she’d always had an overactive imagination.

Author's Note

I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this. It's just that The Teenaged Innocent was hands down my favorite piece of work that I've written in a while, and I really want to do justice to it.

Reviews

[spiritwind]

I enjoyed reading this~~though I do not know how I feel about the 3 years ago and the 1 year ago handling of the past... flashbacks can cripple a story's flow even while they add much needed texture to the storyline.

[Krista Weiss]

I think this is really great! I love it so far!! :)